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Butterflies explode in my stomach, and Trish turns back toward me, silently laughing. “I don’t have any idea where it is.”
James Pritchard gives me directions to the office on the top floor, a floor devoted to the absolute pinnacle of the publishing world. They’re the men and women who make and break careers. The ones who make the shifts in the types of books that are published.
And my boyfriend is up there asking for me to come talk to him. Before he made the insane decision to give up all his money for a month, he’d never have done that. I’m not worth his time. Unless he was going to fire me or promote me, of course.
James Pritchard frowns as I nod and walk toward the elevator. I’m sure he’s wondering if there’s something going on between us, even though we’ve been strictly professional at work. The only other options would be that I was on the chopping block or up for a promotion, neither of which makes sense after working for Loughton House for only a month.
It only makes me realize how quickly my life has gone from simple to absolute madness, and it all boils down to the man waiting for me at the top of the world. A man that I can’t think of as just my roommate anymore.
Not when I’m moving into his multi-million-dollar home tonight.
Not when I’m going to do very dirty things with him inhisbed.
Not when I’m absolutely head-over-heels in love with him.
I knock on the closed door, and I hear Phillip’s gruff voice call out, “Come in.” It feels bizarre to go into his office when his blinds are closed. I feel like a teenager sneaking around after my mom’s gone to bed.
I slip inside the room, and I’m shocked at the size of it. I share a cubicle that’s barely large enough for us all to sit in, and Phillip’s office is about ten times as large as that.
His desk is massive, completely unused. An entire wall is devoted to a white board with multitudes of names on it, each of which has notes under it, many of which include the names of cities. The wall behind him is a single massive window that peers out onto the city below us.
“Lock the door,” he says as he gets up from his desk. All the playfulness that I’m used to seems to be gone, and he’s back to being the Phillip “Ice Cold” Loughton.
I turn the lock and when I look back at Phillip, he’s just staring at me. “I’m sorry for bothering you,” he says as he sits down on the desk.
“Why? I’d always wondered what your office would be like. Jeez Phillip, I guess you really are important with an office like this.” I give him a grin as I cross the room to wrap my arms around him.
God, it feels good to touch him. When we were both working in the cubicle, I didn’t feel the same distance between us. We were there together, destroying books and rebuilding them. Each of us had our own projects, but we were doing the same things. We had our own minor triumphs and troubles, but there was no distance between us.
Sure, we haven’t made anything official, but by the end of last week, I knew how I felt about Phillip Loughton, and I was pretty sure he did too.
But now, there’s so much distance, and all I want to do is pull up a chair next to him. He could teach me to run Loughton House, and we could do it all together.
That’s just a crazy dream, though. Even if we got married, I’d never sit next to him and run Loughton House. He’s spent his entire life preparing for it, and I haven’t.
“I missed you,” he whispers as he kisses my forehead.
I love the way he touches me, especially the little kisses. “We’ve only been at work for two hours. I’m already going crazy being this far away from you.”
He chuckles. “Well, you could always give up editing and become my secretary.”
The conversation with Trish flashes through my mind. “I bet you’d have me wearing a slutty little outfit, too. And bending over to get the paper you keep dropping?”
“Absolutely not. I’d buy you a cute little cushion, and you could just sit under my desk.”
My hand rubs his crotch, and I arch my eyebrow. “I bet you’d struggle to get any work done that way. Could you imagine if your father walked in?”
And there’s a knock on the door. My heart sinks. What am I supposed to do? We were supposed to keep things professional at work. Now he’s been at work for two hours, and already I’m in his office.
“Open the damn door,” a voice says from the other side, and I instantly know who it is even though I’ve never met the man. There’s only one man who would have the audacity to talk to Phillip like that.
It’s Russel Loughton, Phillip’s father. The only person in the world that makes Phillip look and feel like that.
Phillip takes a breath and says, “Just a second.”
He turns to me and whispers, “Don’t try to help me. Let me talk, okay?”
I nod to him, not wanting any part of getting between him and his father. Phillip opens the door, and Russel walks in. I’m immediately surprised by him. He’s definitely older, but he doesn’t act like it. There are lines on his face, and his hair is graying, but he doesn’t slouch at all, and there’s no lack of poise.
